The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(147)

They only counted three? Perhaps you shouldn’t deal with these people if that is as high as they can count. You will end up purchasing the services of six thousand troops and only getting three, Marrow returned in an amused tone.

How many did you bloody well eat? Jala demanded while keeping her expression as neutral as she could.

Four goats, one calf and a dog, Marrow replied, sounding quite pleased with himself.

It’s only been one bloody day Marrow! Jala fairly yelled the words back to him before smiling at the General as sweetly as she could. “I agree to your terms General with one exception.”

“And that would be?” Kithvaryn asked his tone growing colder.

“That you change three goats to four goats, one calf, and a dog and allow me to make restitution for the updated list of snacks,” Jala said quietly, wishing she could have simply left it at three goats which was bad enough as far as she was concerned.

“I can’t imagine the feed bill you must get monthly for that creature if he reaped that much damage here in one night,” Kithvaryn said as he shook his head slowly in amazement. “I accept the terms and if all is settled I will write the contract up and we can both turn our attention to other duties.” Jala nodded in agreement and watched the General rise from his chair. “I will return shortly with the paperwork, then. Feel free to have a drink while you wait. I will have the servants send up breakfast now.”

“Thank you, General,” Jala said with a faint smile as she watched him and Kithkara leave the room. Turning in her seat she looked up at Valor and found him glowering down at her.

“Guarding a child with a hatchet,” Valor grumbled shaking his head in disgust.

“I have to agree with Valor here, Jala. I don’t like the idea of you giving your blood to anyone,” Sovann said quietly.

“Everything has a price, Sovann. Kithvaryn’s was lower than I thought it was going to be after the initial meeting. I count myself fortunate that he is willing to exchange vials rather than simply demanding one from me,” Jala sighed and watched with a growing frown as Valor poured himself a large tumbler of whiskey. He had been doing so well at avoiding drinking, and she knew it was her actions that were pushing him back toward the bottle. There was hardly anything she could say to make it better now, though. Not with Seravae looming so close in their future.





Chapter 25





Delvay





Dark forms circled the camp, dotting the smoke filled sky with a scattering of black. Havoc watched the ravens as they approached and shook his head before glancing at Victory. The scout’s camp should have been far enough from the borders that they would have been safe until the arrival of the main force. From the looks of things, they had been wrong, though.

“Thirty ravens at least. That’s far too many for just a few dead,” Victory said quietly. The Fae looked as haggard and miserable as Havoc had ever seen him and he felt a twinge at the sight. Victory had taken several wounds in the last conflict and they had no healers left. The healers were always the first to die in any conflict and the war in Delvay had proved to be no exception.

“Kes was in this camp. It was her patrol,” Havoc said quietly, his gaze flicking over to the small boy riding behind them. No matter how many times Havoc had argued that the boy was too young for war, the Delvay had ignored him. This was his first actual ride from the city and it was likely that the boy’s first taste of war would be the sight of his mother’s corpse.

“It’s possible that some of them lived,” Victory countered without much hope in his voice.

“I’m going to ride ahead and see. Keep them back if you can,” Havoc said and spurred his horse forward before Victory had time to object. He knew what the objections would be without hearing them. There might still be enemies. It might not be safe. Either was fine with him at this point. Let there still be some Rivasans in the camp. He would gladly help them on their way to the Darklands.

The cawing of the ravens increased as he drew closer and Razor snorted in displeasure. The flame steed hated the carrion birds almost as much as his rider did. A raven was never a good sign as far as Havoc was concerned. It meant one of three things: a battle was over before he had arrived, Seth was somewhere nearby, or the bloody spooks of Seravae had landed. Though in the latter case, the raven was no more than a sigil on their banners.

He slowed his horse to a walk as they entered the small clearing where the scouts had chosen to wait for them. Dismounting slowly, he took in the burnt tents and corpses with a single glance, his eyes searching for Kes. At the very least he could spare the boy the sight of his mother if he could simply find her and cover the body before they arrived.